


Just Fine

by elpollodiablo, thedevilchicken



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Harrenhal, Something Made Them Do It, Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elpollodiablo/pseuds/elpollodiablo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Jaqen helps Arya keep her cover. She does the same for him.





	Just Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indigo_inks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_inks/gifts).

She tells herself it's fine. 

It might even actually be fine, if she were older, and if there weren't six Brave Companions watching them, and if she didn't feel a lot like her cheeks were going to burn up, like the time she accidentally dropped one of Sansa's silly poems in the fireplace. She's got tears in her eyes like Sansa had that day in Winterfell, but Arya's always known that love's not like they say in songs. She's not surprised; she's just sort of disappointed. And maybe a little bit grateful, because she knows it could be a lot worse than this. At least she's not been married to some stinking lord and this isn't their wedding night. It's just Jaqen. It's just once. It's fine. 

He volunteered for it. She thinks it's because he likes her, and he knows she likes him, and he didn't want it to be one of the others. Not that he likes her _like that_, like the girls in Harrenhal like him. Or at least she doesn't think so, because she was dressed up like a boy since before they left King's Landing and they were on the road for what felt like forever and she's all skin and bones and she doesn't even have shoes anymore, not even now she's meant to be a girl again. So maybe she's a bit grateful, because Jaqen H'ghar is strange, but he's strange like all the best people are. 

She goes down on her knees, on the floor in the bathhouse where they sprung this trap on her. The others laugh, but not much, not really, because it's not that funny and they've seen plenty of sex, she'd bet. She hasn't, though. She's not even seen that many naked people, really, and she wishes she didn't have to do it quite like this. It would have been better back in Winterfell, when her father wasn't dead, in her room like it was just their secret, all his hair splayed out on her bed. Maybe back in King's Landing, if they'd hunted cats together, but he was in a black cell there and she doesn't even know why. 

She doesn't know if she wants to know why. Maybe he killed someone, or maybe it was something worse. Her father always said there were worse things than death, but he'd never tell her what he meant. Maybe he meant things like this.

He unbuckles his belt. He tilts up her chin. When he looks down at her, all his red and white hair hangs down around his face, and he smiles at her. She smiles back. The others can't see. She knows he's doing this to protect her, and she's doing it for him.

It's fine, she tells herself, as she takes him in her hands and licks. He's big. He tastes bitter. But that's fine, too. 

Jaqen won't hurt her, she thinks, and if it was anyone but him, she'd put it in her mouth then bite it off. For him, she wants to make it good, even if she doesn't know how to. But this isn't what they want to see, and she knows that. They jeer until he pushes her back, and pushes her down, then they jeer because they think she wants it. That's fine, though: maybe if they think she wants it, they'll never guess who Weasel really is.

He pushes her onto her hands and knees on the bathhouse floor that's wet from the baths so at least it's clean. When he pushes her dress up, till it's halfway up her back, all she can think as her cheeks burn is how she's so pleased they didn't find her in the stables. She really doesn't think about how he spreads her legs and and rubs something between them, because she knows what it is. She doesn't think about how warm she feels down there, or how wet, or how they probably all think she wants this. Maybe Jaqen thinks that, too.

He won't hurt her, she thinks, and then he starts to push inside her. She's never done this before, and maybe it _should_ hurt; that's what all the stablehands in Winterfell used to say, when they thought she wasn't listening, that a maiden's first time always hurt her, and that's how you knew you'd had a maid. She hated them all, and their stupid, wide-eyed faces, leering at her sister. And they were wrong: it doesn't hurt. It just feels strange, like she's full up. When she squeezes around him, it maybe even feels good.

But there are Brave Companions watching, and they want a show, so he gives them one. He moves in her, kneeling there behind her, his hands gripping her hips. She can almost feel their eyes on her, at where his manhood pushes into her, where she's stretched tight around her, and she throbs between her thighs so hard it almost hurts. She wonders if they can see that, or how he makes a show of how he's guiding her back onto him even though what's happening is she's pushing back. Then his fingers find that throbbing place, and he rubs her there, and she cries out loud. She feels tight and then weak and her heart beats so quickly she's sure she's going to die.

Afterwards, when he pulls back out, she's wet between her legs from him. It's in her, and it's on her thighs, and she covers herself up so no one else can see, but the men who came to see have already lost interest. They don't care when she sits with her knees to her chest against the wall; they're already talking about getting food, and getting drunk, so they shuffle off to do that. They don't care that she's sticky from him. They don't care that he stays behind. Maybe they think he'll have another go. He doesn't.

He undresses her, and she lets him undress her, and she lets him take a cloth and wash her. She lets him sit her down on the edge of a bath and spread her legs and touch her there, while he's kneeling on the floor. He kisses her lips - the ones down there. She feels his tongue and she closes her eyes. She gasps. When she slips her fingers into his hair, he doesn't seem to mind.

He won't hurt her, she thinks. He'll never hurt her. It's the rest of them who should be worried.


End file.
